by Gillian Zane
“But, I thought there were different copies of gods and goddesses depending on humans’ belief systems.”
“Only of the created deities. Osiris was not created, he was born of the originals. He has many names, and human beliefs only add to his being, and give him more power. But, he is one god. The created, they are born from the belief and worship of humans, like Persephone you mentioned earlier. They pop into existence when a belief takes hold of a human’s mind and they worship that belief, once it reaches a certain critical mass it blooms into existence. The birth of a god or goddess always causes quite a hysteria in Afterlife.”
“So, Persephone was believed into existence, and what, humans forced her onto Hades? He had no choice in their marriage?”
“Humans’ beliefs placed her as the goddess of the underworld. And in Hades incarnation they were married. But as Osiris, his partner was Aset, who you might know as Isis. Both exist, both are created. Osiris is prolific. His faces are many, but so are most of the PTBs.”
“Do they get jealous?” I wondered aloud.
“The warring is continuous, especially with the petty created.”
“So, Jesus?” I asked, my mind whirling with all the possibilities. All the religions I learned about in high school. Were they all jockeying for position, trying to get control of their little piece of the afterlife?
“The PTBs like to interfere sometimes, especially when they see the path of humans taking a turn they do not like. Jesus was a demigod, we are unsure of which PTB he was spawned from, but he is a Class E. I do not believe the god that spawned him expected his message to be so pervasive, but it was from manipulation that he became so widely known. He controls a large portion of the above world now. Most assume it was a power play to diminish the power of the Roman gods and goddesses who were a very vicious bunch.”
“Above world?” I latched onto the only portion of his statement that had stuck with me. “The way you say that, I’m not even sure I want to know. Is that another place?” I sighed in resignation, coming to the conclusion that every time I learned a tidbit of information another barrage was dumped onto me. The cart stopped and I filed the next one on the stack.
“There is the below, the above, and the in-between. The below houses the beings that are without the light, the darkness. The souls that have no hope of redemption are given to the below. And if the below houses the unredeemable, the above is the opposite. The souls that have achieved balance and are either ready to start again, or languish within their balance. We live in the in-between, in search of balance. Afterlife is one of many parts of the in-between, and where most of the gods and goddesses, along with their offspring, live. It the area closest to the living world, and most of us find that invigorating. Most of us…” he trailed off. I couldn’t read him, couldn’t discern if this existence was something he enjoyed, or tolerated. Or if, like me, he was trapped in a world he couldn’t control or escape.
12
Waiting…
After the last box was filed away, Djoser left me sitting at the desk waiting for more boxes. My new job.
I sat and waited.
I waited to fade. Not really. But the thought was always at the back of my mind.
I sat and thought about what had happened to me to get here.
I tried to sit and hate Lauren. But I couldn’t. I didn’t even have the energy to hate. I was in a constant state of stasis. I would get up and move around just so I wouldn’t…
I don’t know what I would do. Maybe turn to stone? That was such an odd thought. Even my thoughts were reaching an even stasis.
The door opened and I felt a ping of energy filling me back up. Rejuvenating me.
A sallow faced clerk shuffled in. He was weighted down with files and file boxes. He pushed them in front of him on a big cart. He didn’t say a word. Only dropped them off near my desk and shuffled out.
The energy pinged through me, so I got to work. I filed. I stacked the boxes and files on the high shelves, zipping through the system and doing my job.
Then I returned to my place in the alcove and sat.
I waited.
I thought about what I had done.
I thought about Lauren.
I wanted to think about someone else. But I couldn’t. It was too painful. I couldn’t think about him. It would make my vision blurrier. It would make a tear slip out, and my energy would slip away quicker.
So I waited.
13
Something Missing
The door opened. A sallow faced clerk shuffled into the room. He pushed a cart in front of him with only a few files. I felt the energy ping through me and excitedly got to my feet and began to file again. It was too quick this time; there were only a few files.
I went back to my alcove with a frown on my face. There was something I was missing. I sat in front of the computer.
I waited.
14
Too Many Cassandras
I blinked at the blue walls that surrounded me. The door slammed and there were boxes around me. I had missed the clerk, but my job lay before me. I had to get to work. I laid my hand on one of the boxes and the power zinged through me. Invigorating me. I remembered what had happened. I remembered him. I remembered what had happened right before.
“Class E,” I said aloud, testing the words, thick on my tongue like honey. I looked up at the computer and began to type. Searching. Searching for myself. There was another mystery to solve. The zing of energy faded. I touched the box again and sighed as life pulsed through me.
There were so many Cassandra Merciers in the database. So many shared my name, and as I searched, more and more were revealed. Through the years further and further back. None of them were me. I continued to search though. When I felt my vision blurring I would touch the boxes, the fresh boxes of files, and I would feel the slow zing of energy. Reviving me to do my job, barely.
I looked up identification number after identification number. I would get to my feet, take the cart through the stacks until I found their boxes, but none of them were me. None of them were this Cassandra Mercier.
When the sallow faced clerk returned, I hadn’t filed his last delivery.
“You are slacking on your responsibilities,” he hissed. It wasn’t a pleasant voice. “Get to work, or you shall be reported to the Master.”
I picked up the first box and loaded it on the cart. I filed the boxes, returned to the alcove. I looked up another identification number…but wait, what was I doing?
I waited.
15
Die Another Day
I blinked rapidly. I was sitting on a sofa. Across from me was a slowly burning flyer in an ornate fireplace. There was an assortment of fruit in front of me.
“Djoser,” I said by way of greeting. I wasn’t surprised, which was odd. I should be surprised. The last thing I remember was…
Waiting?
“Please help yourself.” Djoser indicated the tray of fruit in front of me. There was a small silver plate next to the tray and I used a little set of tongs to place a few pieces of fruit on the plate.
Djoser made himself his own plate and sat down in the chair to the side of me, directing his attention at the fire. We ate quietly, even though I didn’t need the food. It was refreshing, and at least I was getting some kind of sustenance. It wasn’t too hard to figure out what was wrong with me. I was being drained of energy, only given a little bit now and again when the files came in. Just enough to get the job done. Just enough to barely survive. Soon it wouldn’t be enough. Soon I would blank out and not blank back in when the time between filing stretched on too long. It was a horrible way to go.
If you were dead, and you died again, where did you go?
“You cease to exist,” Djoser said in a conversational tone, as if he heard my thoughts.
“That’s hardly fair,” I responded.
“Nothing about life and death is fair, Cassandra.”
I had nothing to say to that. It was the tru
th. Nothing was fair about my life, at least. I hadn’t had much of a living life, and now my afterlife would prove to be cut off quickly. I had existed for barely twenty-three years. What was fair about that?
“How did your first ten days go?” he asked after I sat back, not willing to argue with him about the fairness of life.
“Ten days?” I repeated numbly. He couldn’t be serious? It hadn’t even been a day. I had maybe filed only a few times. Or had I?
I felt uncomfortable. Like I did when I first came back to consciousness at Karma Inc., right after I had died.
“Yes, now is your break. I thought you would like to see my offices. You could rest your eyes if you choose, but I do not recommend going to sleep. Sometimes you do not wake again.”
“It didn’t feel like ten days,” I said quietly.
“It is different for all of us,” he replied. “I noticed you kept yourself busy with a side project. You even figured out that the files give you the energy to do your job.” He didn’t accuse, only made a statement, but I grimaced anyway, in case I wasn’t supposed to do it. I hadn’t checked in with him for permission. I know it wouldn’t go over well with Persephone if she found out about it.
“I was trying to find my own file. I didn’t realize there were so many Cassandra Merciers. It took so much to locate a single file, and then it would turn out to be the wrong one.”
“Our filing system dates back to the first gods, to the first beings with souls, there might have been a few people named Cassandra Mercier,” he chuckled as if my expecting to be only one Cassandra was silly.
“It’s a rather modern name. The earliest records I found were in the 1700s.” I shrugged and refilled my plate with food. “The 1900s and 2000s exploded with people of the same name, though.” I frowned, thinking about how long it took me to narrow that down.
“Population explosion, but you searched on humans, why? How many Class E Cassandra Merciers could there be?”
“There were no Merciers in the Class E section, so I assumed I had been labeled something else, maybe there was a mistake. I might not be Class E. So I tried all the classes.”
“You would be in Class E. They know your class if you were sent here,” he responded. “There is no mistake.”
“Then why can’t I find myself?” The question came out a bit whinier than necessary.
“That, I cannot tell you.” Djoser got up and walked around the room. He was pacing, and it was hard following his back and forth path. I was getting sleepy again. The sweetness of the fruit faded from my memory.
“You stated you were adopted, correct?” He asked abruptly and I jumped, feeling like I might have nodded off.
“Yes, I found out recently.”
“Mercier is most likely not your name. It’s the name you were given when you were adopted. Was that your parent’s name?”
“Yes,” I said excitedly. It was. They had given me their name.
“You are always filed under your true name.”
I sat back on the sofa, the hope dissipating. How would I know my true name? I hadn’t even known I was adopted. My first name probably wasn’t even Cassandra. My mother named me what she wanted, I remember her telling me the story. She named me after some great aunt.
“How would I know that, if I don’t even know who my parents are?” I finally asked, dejected.
Djoser nodded as if that was it, there was no way to know. As if the mystery of it meant nothing to him. He casually ate the pineapple off his plate, leaning back in his chair as if it was a throne. As if it didn’t matter.
And what did it matter? It was useless. I don’t know why I was obsessed with figuring things out. This need to find out what the mystery was. What did it accomplish with my own death? I knew who did it. I knew the person I trusted most in my life had ended my living life over jealousy about a guy. It didn’t make me feel better now that I knew. It actually made me feel worse. I had been doing my best to not think about it. And now that I knew, now that I knew I was betrayed by one of the only people I had trusted in life, I was sent here. I would go back to the Hall of Records. I would begin to file. I would sit down at the desk in the alcove. And at some point, I wouldn’t stand back up.
It was useless.
It still niggled at the back of my mind. The questions. More questions. Who was I? What was I? Why was I even here? The familiar tug of the questions. The familiar tug of the drive to know. Keeping me moving. Keeping me…
Awake.
And now I was on a desperate path again. On another search to figure out who I was. Not even worried about the other desperate search I had been on only ten days ago. I was never satisfied. Gotta know the truth. But what would it do? I would know what asshole god or goddess was too much of a coward to even claim me. It was probably impossible to figure out what my real name was. Only whoever gave me that name knew what it was. If they even took the time to name me.
I slumped back in the sofa, dizzy from the exertion of so much energy. For nothing. A useless pursuit for my name. Which I didn’t even know.
Only some dick PTB that donated some DNA or whatever the hell gods and goddesses had that passed on to their children would know what my name was.
My name.
Something tickled at the back of my mind. A weird night and a strange guy who showed up at my door. He said my name wasn’t Mercier, it was…
“Cassandra Klymenos,” I said the name aloud, the odd pronunciation heavy on my tongue.
Djoser’s head shot up, emotion I couldn’t place racing across his features. It was the most response I had ever gotten out of him. He was on alert, his head slowly turning to me.
“What did you say?” His voice had gone edgy, with something I couldn’t place. Was that fear?
“There was a man. He came to me when I was on a case. I was pretending to be a psychic and he asked me for a reading. He knew what I was, and he told me my name is Cassandra Klymenos. Or he said it’s one of my names. I don’t know what he meant by that.”
The plate of fruit dropped from Djoser’s hand as he stood quickly. I recognized the emotion now. It was written all over his face. Panic. It was clear now, from the wide eyes, to the slight shake of his hands when he held them out to me, to stop my words. To stop me from continuing.
“You do not belong here if this is truth.” He hurried to the desk in the corner, a desk I hadn’t noticed until now. I looked around the room, noticing for the first time the picture type writing on a few murals on the walls not covered in books.
We were in a library of sorts. It was ancient looking. Foreign. It fit Djoser perfectly. This must be his private domain.
He sat down at his desk and began to type furiously. It was an odd juxtaposition of symbolism. The ancient pharaoh sitting behind a very modern computer. Whatever he was looking up didn’t take him long to find.
“Your identification number is 1400.”
“That’s rather low,” was all I said in return.
“There are few Class E beings,” he added, his voice once again cold and reserved.
“Dammit, are you gonna fill me in? Why don’t I belong here?”
16
White Knight
“Yeah, fill us all in or, Cassandra, maybe you can start with why you’re gone for a few days and already hanging out by the fire with a half-naked, washed up god?”
“Drake,” I jumped to my feet, the rest of the fruit flying around the room. The most energy I had felt in a long time rushed through my body. He was here.
How in the world had he gotten here?
“I am not washed up,” I heard Djoser mumble, but I had no time to defend his washed up status. I was being saved by my white knight. It only chaffed a bit at my strong female independence, but who cares who does the saving as long as it happens? Right? Oh what did I care? Drake was here. He had saved me.
The white knight in question was a breath of fresh air storming the room. He was all dark brooding shadows, with a look to kill. I hadn’t s
een that face of determination since I had stepped in his office so long ago when we had first met. He was on a mission and that mission was me.
There were two females trailing behind him. One I recognized, one I didn’t. But the moment the stranger’s green eyes looked my way, I stopped in my tracks.
They were the same. The same as mine. The one thing I never changed every time I slipped into another glamour. My eyes. We had the same eyes. Hers traveled over me, and then dismissed me, uninterested. She assessed the room with a cold curiosity that had me fumbling in my tracks. Who was this woman? Why was she here with Drake?
Drake was the one to close the gap between us. Breaking my trance as he pulled me into his arms. I threw my arms around his neck and he breathed me in, his energy washing over me like a drug. It was invigorating. Everything about him was. His smell, his feel, everything about him. I trailed my fingers over the leather jacket he wore. I took in his sheer size, how I had to lean up to lay my head on his shoulders.
“Cassandra, baby,” he said against my hair, as he pulled me even closer to him, my toes barely touching the ground as he held me against him.
“You came for me. I didn’t think…”
“What, that I wouldn’t be able to find you?”
“It seemed a bit above your pay grade,” I laughed, running my hands across his chest.
“You know when I set my mind on something.”
“I was supposed to fade away to nothing, I was fading.” I still felt the pull of sleep. The urge to lie my head down. The urge to wait for the end.
“Not on my watch, my bitch of a mother—”